Poetry rejected again :-(
The day before Christmas Eve I rec’d a rejection letter from a publisher–my poems did not make the last cut due to space concerns (sigh).
Driving around town, I search
the teenage hangouts.
A red pine in the city park has
fallen, the trunk twisted
by wind to slivered threads.
Tornadoes aren’t that selective,
only one tree, and I wonder
what wind can bring such results:
down-blasts, shear winds, winds that
whip leaves into tiny vortices and
propel them across the road.
City workers will slice the pine into
sections, and branches will be fed to
a chipper for mulch.
I think of my own meager woodpile,
estimate my chances before the next storm.
This night may be calm,
the Northern Lights dance as
I drive around town trying to locate
my daughter, but too often the wind
tears us from each other.
I want to share the aurora, the tree, with her.
I need to ask her to stop whipping
me around in these chaotic years.
That red pine stood firm and
five-feet from its root,
spiraled and shattered.
I keep drawing her close.
Poem copyright: Kim Nixon
Posted on December 30, 2007, in Poetry and tagged free verse poetry, mother-daughter angst, poetry about my daughter, poetry of place, trees, Undergraduate peotry, Upper Peninsula poetry. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.